Misconceived Perception
by suspect tomatoes
Summary: And my reflection offers no apology. Christian/OC. One-shot.


**A/N: I'm totally and completely in love with Jay. (Summary credited to CKY.)  
**

"I'm actually going into the hospital right now," Jay sighed, hopping up the icy steps to the revolving doors. He pushed through and welcomed the warm air of the lobby, loosening his scarf just slightly. "Are you coming today?"

"I'm gonna see if I can make it out there," Adam said resignedly. "There's a driving ban right now. I'm surprised you actually got in the city."

"Oh, I didn't... go home last night." Jay smiled at one of the nurses looking over a chart at the station, giving her a quick wave. "I just slept in a chair."

"Jay..."

"I can't leave her, Adam." Jay side-stepped a doctor and went into the elevator, pressing the seventeenth floor button. "I promised her I'd stay with her to the end."

"I know, man, but... she's not even conscious. And I'm sure she wouldn't want you killing yourself over this."

Jay's fist clenched inside his jacket pocket.

"I'm gonna try to come in today so you can go home and get some sleep."

"I'm not leaving, Adam."

Adam sighed angrily. "Fine. I'm still gonna try to make it, though. When are visiting hours over?"

"Eight." Jay leaned his head against the cool metal wall, closing his eyes briefly. He hadn't slept in about a week and a half, and it was really catching up with him.

"Jay. Jay!"

"Huh?" Jay straightened and yawned. "Sorry. I guess I must've dozed off."

"That's it. I'm coming in today and then you're resting somewhere. I don't care if it's in your car, but you're going to sleep for a couple of hours."

Jay glanced at the numbers above the door, tapping his foot as he waited patiently for it to reach his destination.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Adam, I gotta go. I shouldn't be talking on a cell phone in a hospital."

"You have a point. All right, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay." Jay yawned loudly again, pressing his fist against his widened mouth. "I'll see you later."

"Jay?"

"Yeah."

Adam sighed. "Just... take it easy."

"I'll try." Jay frowned, then pressed end. The doors opened a second later.

He made sure his phone was completely off before he started down the brightly lit hallway, cordially acknowledging the people that passed him. He'd be walking this same path since the beginning of the month, but every day it got a little harder.

He knew he wouldn't be walking it much longer.

He hated that her door was always open. He tried to close it the last time he showed up, but the nurse barged in and yelled at him for it. Privacy didn't exist in a hospital, especially in the ICU.

Jay paused, then rapped his knuckles against the door. "Anyone home?"

He knew no one would answer, so he went in and smiled, feeling the pain behind his eyes start to throb. His throat always burned when he first walked in, but once he'd pulled a chair up and felt that her hand was still warm, the pain would slowly dull until he had to leave.

Her hand wasn't cold today, but it wasn't as warm as it usually was. Jay frowned and fixed his chair, pressing his knees against the side of her mattress.

"How are you today?" he asked quietly. He could always feel the breath being squeezed out of his chest as he waited for her to inhale. It was always a relief when she did, if only a couple of times.

He rubbed her hand softly, watching her face as he slowly lifted it. He kissed her knuckles, one by one, frowning at the bruises. "Where'd you get these?" He smiled half-heartedly. "Beat somebody up?"

She stayed motionless, and then her chest expanded.

He let out a little breath.

It was getting harder every day. The doctor said she could still hear people, so it was always helpful to talk. He'd talked so much the first day, saying everything he felt, remembering every little detail of their lives. He'd talked and talked and talked until he had to go home.

He'd cried the entire drive.

"It's snowing," he observed, holding her hand against the mattress as he gazed out at the falling flakes. He slid his eyes to her face. "I remember how much you loved the snow. You loved the snow because we used to play hockey when your pool would freeze over."

Her finger twitched.

"I remember we came back up here that one time. Was it Christmas?" Jay frowned, shaking his head. "Wow. I can't even remember."

She inhaled sharply, then nothing.

Jay bit his lip and looked away. "Anyway. We... you wanted to have a snowball fight, and I told you it wasn't a good idea because the snow was icy. But you wanted to have one anyway." He smiled, nostalgic tears touching the insides of his eyes. "We were so bloody after that snowball fight. Cuts up and down our arms and faces."

He danced his fingers up her cold arm. "I wonder if you still have that scar on the inside of your elbow. Remember when you got that? I tried to shoot that puck between your arm and your side and it ended up knocking your elbow out of place."

Her skin jumped when he touched her elbow, moving it to spot the healed slice in the crook of it. "You do," he whispered. He looked up at her face and willed her eyes to open, to open and recognize him.

He laughed slightly when she did nothing. "I was always hurting you." His lip was quivering, and he knew it was coming. He laid his head against her fingers and closed his eyes. "I was always hurting you."

Hours slid by, the light changed. The snow got heavier, leaving blankets of it caked against the window. Jay had watched it accumulate, build up until it cracked and fell. It always started again.

He hadn't blinked in over an hour. He didn't want to miss a second of her – he knew he'd miss much more than a second after she was gone. He wasn't going to waste anything. He just kept her hand against his mouth as his tired eyes watched her motionless face.

"Jay?"

He blinked, his eyes dry and tight. He glanced over at the doorway, smiling at the flake covered Adam standing there. "Hi," he said, his voice cracking.

"How's she today?"

"Same as yesterday."

Adam put a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should get some sleep."

"I'm fine," Jay said weakly, eyes still on her face.

"Jay." Adam waited until he looked up to continue. "You really need to get some rest."

"I don't need rest."

"Yes, you do." Adam grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the uncomfortable position he was in. "Look, I brought the Hummer. Just go lay down in the back for... an hour. Just one hour. Then you can come back up."

Jay looked at her quietly, then back at Adam, sighing. "All right. Fine."

Adam handed him his keys. "One hour, man. That's all."

"I know, I know." Jay took the keys, then bent over, pressing his face to Callie's. "I'll be back. I'm just gonna step out. Adam's here. He misses you."

Adam shifted awkwardly.

"I love you so much," Jay whispered. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and straightened, turning to Adam. "You have to talk to her. She can still hear you."

"I know, Jay."

Jay nodded, then started for the door, but the heaviness in his pocket made him come to a halt. "Oh! I forgot."

Adam glanced up from his spot when Jay came back over and fished something out of his pocket, placing it between her cupped fingers. "What's that?" he asked.

Jay glanced back, making sure her wrist wasn't bent at a funny angle. "A hockey puck."

* * *

The next time Jay opened his eyes, the sun was out. His body ached, but in an incredibly good way. Adam was right – sleeping really helped him. He felt refreshed and ready to do whatever it took to bring Callie back.

But when he sat up and stretched, the time on the dashboard made his heart drop.

_Eight-thirty_.

He hadn't slept an hour. He'd slept all day and all night.

He tore out of the back seat faster than he'd ever gone, and he found himself hauling serious ass as he tore down the slippery streets, falling to his hands and knees as he tried to get to the hospital doors. His feet slid on the icy steps, and he fell into the glass, practically breaking it as he spun through.

He took the stairs instead of the elevator. He didn't have time to wait for it, nor did he have time to wait for people to get on. He skipped the steps, two at a time, and broke through the door in a heap when he finally reached her floor.

He was tired and out of breath, but he pulled himself up and hustled down the hallway, skidding at the end, hitting the windowsill. He bounced himself off the wall and went into her room.

It was empty.

He stayed quiet for a minute or two, just regaining his breath, and then he checked the door number. It was her room. It was _her room_.

So where _was_ she?

She couldn't be gone. She just couldn't be.

Jay didn't even realize his breaths were becoming shallower, louder. He panicked, launching himself at the bed as he tore the blankets back, threw the pillows. He checked under the frame, just in case this was a trick. Just in case she'd woken up.

He went to the other side of the room and checked that bed too. The room was almost completely dark because of the wall of snow built up against the window, so Jay hurried back to the open door for some light. He wanted to see her smiling at him, winking, "Gotcha!" as she lofted herself into his arms and told him it was all a joke.

But as he turned back to the bed, he spotted the round, scuffed hockey puck propped up against the vase of roses on the table.

His heart stopped.

At first, he couldn't move. All he did was stare at it, sweaty, heaving breaths. His eyes scanned the room quickly, looking for Adam, looking for her. He took a step, hesitating.

It was so cold against his fingertips. His eyes slid shut as he picked it up and felt its heaviness, the rough edges. She always said she loved broken in pucks – they always looked so smooth, but if you touched it, you'd feel all the dents and scratches on it.

Misconceived perception.

Jay gripped it tightly, his lids shut, and he couldn't even feel it. He couldn't _feel it_.

"Mr. Reso?"

Jay whirled around, eyes wet as he stared at the shadowed doctor in the doorway. He gulped a sharp inhale. "Where is she?"

The doctor shook his head. "She's gone."

Jay's lower lip trembled, his hands playing with the puck. "I... I don't understand."

"She went peacefully, Mr. Reso. At five-thirty-two this morning."

"Was... Was anyone here?"

The doctor shook his head. "Well... Mr. Copeland was here, but he'd fallen asleep when it'd happened."

"She..." Jay swallowed thickly. "She died _alone_?"

"I wouldn't say that –"

"She died alone!" Jay gripped at his face and fell onto her bed, thumping the puck against his forehead. "I promised her I'd stay with her until the end. I promised her. _I promised her_!"

"Mr. Reso –"

"God," he whispered. He bent into himself, pressing his face against the inside of his arm. "How could I have been so _selfish_?"

"I'll give you some time, Mr. Reso." The doctor motioned toward the light switch as he moved to shut the door. "Turn that on if you want some light. I'll close this so you'll have some privacy."

Privacy. Jay almost laughed. Now she could have privacy.

The doctor shut the door, leaving Jay in total darkness. He was too tired to get up and turn on the light. He was too tired to do anything, even lay down against her pillow.

He sniffled slightly and lifted his head. The puck was weighty in his hands. He couldn't believe they didn't let her take it. It was the one thing she loved as much as him. If she couldn't take him with her, she could at least have that.

But she went alone.

"I hate myself," he hissed. He quietly looked up and over his shoulder, staring at the snow covered window. Slowly, he stood up, rolling the puck between his fingers, and headed over there, pressing his forehead against the cool glass.

She died alone. He let her go by herself, even when he'd _promised_ her she wouldn't do anything alone ever again. He promised her the day he slipped that ring on her fucking finger.

Jay turned away from the window, disgusted with himself, disgusted with the room. It was too goddamn dark in there. It was too goddamn dark, and he was so goddamn alone.

He turned and hurled the puck at the window, watching it shattered through the glass smoothly. It created a tiny pocket of light, barely enough to illuminate the area around it, but the wall of snow caved in on itself and the room was black again.

Jay pressed his hands to his face as he slid down the wall.

He'd never see the light again.

**A/N: OMG WUT. That was hard to write. I love Jay too much. I'm gonna write a happy story about him next. Review.**


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